Ballroom Dancing
by Jayjay1304
Summary: Fancy gala AU, that's literally it.


**Well HELLO! So this is my first time writing for this fandom and I'm hella scared cause y'all are so good at writing! Anyway just bear with me, don't be mean and yeah...review please!**

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><p>Oliver Queen loved a good party. Ground shaking music flowing from oversized speakers, liquor flowing, girls in well, barely anything oh, and the sex, God damn, the sex was one of the many reasons Oliver Queen attended those social gatherings. However, ever since his father had died in that plane crash five years ago, the party animal in Oliver had been abandoned as he'd been forced to take up the reins of Queen Consolidated, the family business, from his father.<p>

However, this was most definitely not the type of party Oliver Queen wanted to hang around in. No, this wasn't exactly his cup of tea. He liked his tea strong and hot whereas this was weak and already starting to get cold. These types of parties were for the older generation, black tie events? He had absolutely no idea, a gala maybe? Old, wrinkled men with their equally wrinkled white-haired wives waltzed around the ballroom bragging about a new project or a new car or maybe a new overseas company they were planning on buying. Sometimes you'd get the occasional sugar daddy with his hot, young and usually blonde wife practically wearing a neon flashing sign reading 'gold digger'. He never said anything. More often than not he found it amusing, watching said wife ogle him while her husband was busy chatting up a waitress or two.

Unfortunately for Oliver, Mr Downey and his wife, Aubrey? Were trying to make polite conversation with him and that polite conversation usually went along the lines of his plans for Queen's Consolidated. Oliver would rather not talk about his plans for Queen's Consolidated at the moment besides, he'd thought nothing needed to be changed. Hmm maybe not. Oliver just threw a random answer which he'd said a thousand and one times before, something along the lines of 'more jobs' and 'expanding the applied sciences department'. Heck, he couldn't even fully comprehend the purpose of Queen's Consolidated.

Mr and Mrs Downey finally left and he let out a long, tired sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He then proceeded to mutter a curse under his breath when he noticed Mrs Peterson slinking up towards him, the fluffy trim of her peach skirt brushing her bony ankles. Oh Lord what did she want?

"Oliver, dear, fancy seeing you here. Oh don't you look handsome?" Mrs Peterson smiled, touching his forearm lightly.

Oliver Queen had no problem with Mrs Peterson, no, the only thing he resented about the kind old lady was her determination to get him and her granddaughter together. Every gala, every black tie event, every ball, every goddamn place she was pestering him to give her 'sweet' granddaughter a try. Oliver had come literally millimetres close to telling the woman that he had in fact slept with her granddaughter and while she was good in bed this girl was so goddamn clingy.

Stella Peterson was a gorgeous girl. Tanned, toned, bikini body, malibu blonde finished off with a pair of emerald eyes and a hundred-watt smile, she was definitely his type. And whilst this vision was pretty enough to be boxed up and sold for a hundred pounds in Harrods, sweet Jesus was she the crazy ex-lover from hell?! Not that she'd even been his lover, God knows what she'd have done to him then.

Even if he did want to get with her, there wasn't a chance in the world of that happening just yet. Her sweet old grandmother hadn't seem to notice that her sweet granddaughter was currently shoving her tongue down some poor waiter's throat.

She's sweet alright.

"Mr Queen!" A man in his mid fifties dressed head to toe in a white suit, accessorised with a blonde lady on his arm, called to him.

"Mr Delancey, how are you?" Oliver smiles politely at him and spares a quick glance to the woman clutching to the man's arm, who's smiling and twirling a blonde lock around her fingers.

"Great, I don't think you've met my wife?" He slips an arm around the blonde's waist and gestures over to her, "This is Donna, Donna this is Oliver Queen, the son of a good friend."

The blonde's eyes widen and she seems to suddenly recognise who he is, she throws a smile at him and shakes his open hand,

"I'm Donna Delancey, previously Smoak, we got married two months ago. I didn't see you at the wedding sweetie?"

"No, I was on a business trip, no rest for the wicked hm?"

Donna laughs and whispers something into Mr Delancey's ear, in which he responds to by scanning the ballroom and shrugging. Oliver furrows his eyebrows and follows their gaze to the tables set out on the west side. Suddenly, Donna leaves and is weaving through the mass of people and tables.

"She's looking for her daughter, oh you should meet her, she's wonderful." Mr Delancey chuckles and looks over to where Donna disappeared to.

"Daughter?"

"My step-daughter, Donna's daughter." Mr Delancey corrects.

Donna emerges from the crowd and on her arm, Oliver can just about see a blur of blonde in a slinky, indigo dress which hugged her slight torso and grew out from her dainty waist, he could imagine his arms encircling that little waist of hers and his hands running down her back. The silver beading of her dress crept up from her waist, to her left shoulder and twinkled in the light of the ballroom. She finally looked up at him when her and her mother got back. His breath caught in his throat.

She was gorgeous, no, stunning, no, a dream.

Standing in front of him, was vision, she must be a thing of his imagination. No one could be this beautiful?

Her deep blue eyes locked onto his. From what didn't cover, he could see her creamy white skin, that looked so unbelievably soft and he wanted to know if it was. He wanted to undo her fancy updo and run his fingers through her golden blonde hair. He wanted to tug her body flush against his and kiss her crimson lips senseless. Forget that brunette Tommy was urging him to call back. Forget Stella Peterson. No one in this room, heck, of all girls everywhere, could possibly measure up to this goddess standing in front of him.

"This is Felicity, she's a little shy." Said Donna, nudging her daughter probably urging her to introduce herself.

Felicity

Yes, it fitted her perfectly, Oliver decided. A pretty name for the prettiest lady. He wanted to see if it rolled of his tongue as nicely as it sounded in his head.

Snapping himself out of his daydream, he extended a hand out towards the wide eyed blonde,

"May I have this dance, Felicity?" He asked, a small smile tugging on his lips. He guessed right, her name definitely sounds better when he says it aloud. She nodded faintly, not saying a word, taking his outstretched hand and holding it lightly as he lead her into the middle of the dance floor.

With his left hand against the small of her back and her right hand on his shoulder, he guided them smoothly across the floor, weaving them expertly through the other couples in their fluffy gowns and stiff tuxes.

"I'm not used to this," Felicity started, breathing out slightly, "I mean, I wasn't born into this. It's scary and, I wanna go back. Not that I think it's bad. It's good, great even, I mean I met you and well, yeah. It's just, I got pulled away from everything and suddenly I have good looking bachelors looking at me in that way, like you and in high school I could barely get the normal guys to give me a second glance, let alone the jocks and why do I feel like I can trust you? And I'm babbling again." She breathes in and looks down, embarrassed.

He lifts her head up with two fingers and smiles a dazzling smile, "You think I'm good looking?"

She glares at him in mock annoyance, "That's what you got from that?!"

"No, I also got that those 'jocks' didn't see how wonderful you really are and...you have a really cute blush." She blushes more at that and he chuckles when she looks away again.

"Felicity?" Her head snaps back round at that and she raises an eyebrow. One hand comes down to settle on her waist, the other behind her neck. Her heart starts beating furiously in her chest, anticipating his next move.

"You have an eyelash, right,"

Oh.

The hand behind her neck moves to cup her cheek and his thumb brushes the little wisp away.

"here."

He holds his thumb out to her, the little eyelash stuck to the calloused pad.

"Make a wish, Felicity." So she closes her eyes and wishes then blows the eyelash away.

When she opens her eyes, Oliver's have gotten darker and the hand around her waist is replaces by his arm wrapping around it instead.

"Fe-li-ci-ty." He leans in and she closes her eyes, meeting him half way in a sweet kiss. Their lips moulding against each other, the heat of it all making her dizzy.

"So," Oliver smirks as he pulls away, "did your wish come true?"

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><p><strong>Voila! I hope you liked it! Love y'all x<strong>


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